


Aurora

by leiaryes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Light smut?, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post S6, for now lol, its mostly just lance and keith, its mostly just making out, klance, other characters will make an appearance but theyre not the focus, return to earth, that happens later tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiaryes/pseuds/leiaryes
Summary: auroranoun.: dawnWith the Castle of Lions destroyed and the paladins on their way back to Earth, Lance and Keith explore their feelings, fall in love, and learn a little bit about each other along the way.(a 30 day klance writing challenge)





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> So, I thought I'd try something a little different with this. For the next 30 days, I'm going to be writing little klance fics based on a prompt list I've assembled for myself. Most will be about the length of this first one (maybe a little longer or shorter depending on how I'm feeling), and they'll all connect in an overarching fic that takes place after season 6!
> 
> I really, really hope you guys like this. I've never done anything like this before, so it'll be a challenge to see if I can actually get one fic done in a day (I'm already a day behind oof).
> 
> If you want to see all the prompts, you can find them all on my tumblr [here.](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com/post/176508987705/aurora)
> 
> Happy reading, guys! :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance share a conversation a few days into the beginning of the team's trip back.

The night air was cool and cutting, sending a jolt of shivers down Keith’s body, even in his paladin armour. The planet they had landed on seemed—from Coran’s research—more or less uninhabited. There weren’t many plants about, only a few dozen Keith could count within his vicinity. There wasn’t any water, either—or at least, not where their lions had touched down a few hours ago. The ground beneath him was red, shifting in waves as the wind brushed over it.

It reminded Keith a lot of the desert he had grown up in.

He found his eyes wondering. Their group had made camp for the night in a messy sort of circle, the lions parked behind and surrounding them. From his position leaning against Black, he could see Hunk, Pidge, and Coran tapping away on a tablet, most likely charting a course for the fastest way back to Earth. A little ways away from him, Allura was helping Shiro lie down in the makeshift cot the group had created. His mother and Romelle were speaking in hushed voices next to them, Yorak lying by their side.

It was quiet—a little too quiet, and it was perhaps this thought that had Keith sitting up, frowning as a strange restlessness washed over him.

The group was missing laughter.

It was missing warmth and cheerfulness. Missing blue eyes and tousled, windswept hair.

Keith found himself rising. He muttered a quick farewell to the rest of the group as he stood and turned, feet carrying him towards the hulking shadow of the red lion. His former ship sent out a greeting as he approached, low and familiar, and Keith smiled at the gesture. Red wasn’t as loud as he’d once been, but Keith could still feel the remnants of their connection in the back of his mind, strong despite the time they had spent away from one another.

 _Where’s Lance, Red?_ he sent the lion’s way, stopping to lay a palm atop the cool metal.

The ship responded with a soft _purr_ and placed what might have been the word, _back_ , in Keith’s mind. The boy smiled, thanking Red silently. The lion gave another soft rumble as he rounded the corner.

And stopped.

He was seated atop the red sand, back to his lion and head tilted up to the stars overhead. He had one leg drawn in towards him, an arm resting gently on it, while the other stretched out before him in a lazy sprawl. His chest plate was strewn on the ground beside him, and with a pang, Keith realized that he was clad in nothing but his dark undersuit from the waist above.

He felt his cheeks redden, all but heard the pounding of his heart grow in intensity. The night’s breeze swept in then, lifting a few wayward strands of hair from atop the boy’s head. The planet’s single moon shone from above, and it bathed him in a soft, silver glow that lit his tan cheeks and defined his angular brow.

Lance turned his gaze to meet his then, and something in Keith’s chest fluttered.

“Hey,” the boy greeted warmly.

“H-hi,” Keith managed.

“Shouldn’t you be with the others?” Lance quirked an eyebrow at him, smiling, but shifted a little to the side to free up room. Seeing that as an invitation, Keith wandered closer.

“I, uh, noticed you were gone,” he began as he sat, settling his back against Red. Beside him, Lance let out a soft laugh.

“Yeah, I wanted some quiet.”

“Oh.” Keith felt his eyes widening. “Did-did you want me to leave?”

Lance let out another chuckle, this time returning his gaze to the sky. “No. No, you’re good, dude,” he whispered, and Keith watched as his eyes roamed the stars. It grew quiet between them then, the only sounds coming from the wind blowing past, and Keith used the opportunity to glance over at Lance.

There were bags beneath his eyes, ones Keith hadn’t noticed when he’d first gotten back. His skin, too, had become more ashen, dried out and pale in comparison to the glowing complexion he’d had before. The corners of the boy’s mouth were downturned in the slightest of frowns, and there was a sad tilt to his brow that had Keith reaching for him, unconsciously placing a hand atop his shoulder.

“Hey,” he found himself whispering, “are you okay?”

At his words, Lance smiled. “I’m fine.” The boy swatted his hand away playfully. “The last few days have just been a little overwhelming. I wanted to come here and take a small breather.” His eyes took on a teasing glint, but Keith noted with a dejected feeling how empty the expression looked.

“Are you done mothering me?” Lance bumped their shoulders together.

Keith frowned, even as he felt his cheeks reddening from the contact. “I’m not mothering you,” he muttered.

“And the sky’s not blue,” Lance teased.

The raven-haired boy glanced up at the dark expanse above them, taking in the deep black of the night around. He felt a smirk growing atop his lips. “It’s not,” he stated, and gestured up.

“You know what I meant,” Lance scoffed once he’d followed the movement.

They dissolved into light laughter, worries fading as the breeze swept them away into the night. Lance, Keith noticed with a sudden giddiness, looked a little more like his usual self: carefree and enjoying. The image of the boy’s pale skin and sunken eyes didn’t leave him, but Keith remained quiet, not daring to break the fragility of the moment they had found themselves in. He filed the thought away for a later date and resigned himself to watching Lance.

Lance, whose eyes crinkled as soft snorts erupted from his person.

Lance, whose dimples appeared the moment his smile grew wider.

Lance, whose very being looked as though he had been starving for laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Keith blurted.

The boy beside him quieted, turning to face him with a pinched expression, confusion evident in his features. “For what?”

“For….” Keith trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His hands played with the soft sand beneath him, running the fine grain through his fingers as he thought about Lance’s question.

_For what?_

His eyes met a pair of blue. He didn’t know what he was doing there—searching for answers perhaps? Lance’s pupils were darker in the shadows, more akin to the deep indigo of the sky above them. They were depthless, endless in a way that reminded Keith of the ocean, pulling him in with the tide and refusing to let him go. He took in a laboured breath.

“For everything, I guess,” he began, and found himself being unable to stop. “For leaving in the first place, for not keeping in contact—and then when I came back. Lance, I just-I brushed you off and—”

The boy stopped him with a hand to his arm, the contact burning even through the armour. Keith felt his cheeks heat. His eyes widened as he took in his rambling. “I-I, uh…,” he stuttered.

Lance chuckled, and the hand on his arm tightened ever so slightly. “Keith,” the boy laughed, “it’s fine.” His words were genuine, but the raven-haired boy found himself frowning.

“I still want to say sorry.” He pouted.

“Well then, apology accepted, mullet.”

Keith huffed. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I am,” Lance insisted, and though his lips were still smiling, Keith could see the earnestness and sincerity held bare in his eyes. “You’re back, now. That’s all that matters.”

Keith held his gaze for a moment, trapped by the sheer gravity of what the boy before him was saying. It sent something in his chest pounding, awakened a fluttering in his stomach that he didn’t think was all that healthy. And yet, he couldn’t look away. Violet pupils latched onto dark blue desperately. A hunger ignited within him in a way he had never known before.

“Okay,” Keith whispered.

Lance smiled then, and distantly, Keith found himself thinking that he could have stared at him forever.

The tan boy perked suddenly, letting go of the arm he had in his hold. “I just remembered something,” he beamed, rising. “Wait here.”

“Lance?” Keith called, but the other boy was already running, disappearing in through the back door of his lion as the latter remained seated on the ground, dumbfounded.

The red paladin returned a few minutes later, arms holding something behind his back. The was a gleam in his eye as he approached, settling himself down beside Keith before thrusting his hands forward. A familiar red and white bundle appeared in front of him, and Keith’s eyes widened as he took it in.

“My jacket?” He heard himself wonder.

“Surprise!”

Keith glanced a look up at Lance, finding a smile lighting up the boy’s face. He blinked.

“How—where—”

“I grabbed it before we left,” Lance explained. “With everything that was going on with Shiro, I figured you wouldn’t have had the time to get anything, and I just saw it lying there, so I….” He was rambling now, and all Keith could do was stare.

Stare at the boy before him.

The boy who had kept his jacket.

The boy who was now returning it.

The boy whose entire being was driven by selfness and an honest desire to help everyone around him.

The boy who would gladly give himself up to save the life of another.

Something gave way in Keith’s heart.

He was above denying it any longer. He’d come to the conclusion long ago, realized the magnitude of his feelings for this boy as he’d laid awake picturing his face and laugh in the dim light of his blade quarters.

He wanted to hold him. He wanted to tangle his fingers in soft, brown hair and kiss the spot on his forehead that scrunched up whenever he got confused. He wanted to hold his hand, wanted to interlock their fingers and run his thumb over the smooth skin of his knuckles.

He wanted Lance, so, _so_ badly, and he wanted everything that he encompassed.

Hesitantly, Keith reached out towards the cloth. Lance gave it willingly, gently placing it in the raven-haired boy’s lap with a smile.

“Thank you,” Keith whispered.

Lance’s grin widened. He looked down at the ground briefly before meeting his gaze once again.

“I’m glad you’re here, Keith.”

The wind danced around them; the moon and stars twinkled above. Keith found himself smiling.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried?
> 
> Ahh, I hope you still enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Tumblr: [here](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com)


	2. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a week after their first conversation, Keith and Lance share a carefree bonding moment. Yorak makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to lie, I had a TON of fun with this chapter. I enjoyed it way more than I thought I would, so with that being said, I hope you will, too!
> 
> I _100%_ am on board with the headcanon that Keith named his wolf Yorak, and that Yorak absolutely adores Lance. I also like to think that he has a bit of an attitude and is a little shit towards Keith.
> 
> Still a day behind in the prompts (which can be found [here](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com/post/176508987705/aurora)), but I hope this makes up for it. _Pst, it's pretty much all fluff!_

“Yorak, come on!”

Keith sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that day, resigning himself to picking up the stick that lay abandoned on the ground.

The team had landed on a planet that Coran had called Aldaria. It was a beautiful world, one comprised of tall grasses, sprawling forests, and sparkling rivers that hurt the eye whenever the light reflected just so. They hadn’t found any signs of intelligent life, only the occasional insect or rodent that had come across their path in the few hours that they’d been there.

Aldaria reminded Keith a lot of the Earth that Hunk and Lance reminisced about: green, feeling, _living._ Having never travelled outside of the desert, the only adjective Keith had ever associated with his surroundings had been _dry, dry, dry._

He let out a huff as he twirled the stick caught between his fingers, eyeing the large animal laying by his feet. “What the hell, Yorak?” he muttered, annoyed. The wolf merely raised his head, sporting a dull expression that screamed boredom and disinterest back at his owner.

Keith ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why are you so difficult?” he whined. The wolf only scoffed and turned onto his back, awaiting a much anticipated belly rub. The boy felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline, balking at the audacity as Yorak made impatient noises.

He didn’t know which was worse: the possibility that his wolf simply did not understand him, or did in fact know what he was saying, and actively chose to ignore him. He mumbled curses to himself even as he indulged the animal. Beneath his hand, Yorak let out satisfied rumbles.

“Smug bastard,” Keith muttered, though he didn’t fight the smile that wound its way across his mouth. “Why don’t you go bother someone else with this?”

Yorak whined, and somewhere off to his side, a voice chuckled.

“Is that any way to treat your child?”

Keith paused in his to petting to turn in the direction of the newcomer, felt everything in his body still as he became aware of the presence headed towards him. His breath stuttered.

Lance was dressed casually, clad in his jeans and blue shirt, jacket wrapped lazily around his waist. His hair was a little tousled, a by-product, Keith realized, of the light breeze running through the meadow they were in. Sunlight caught his profile as he approached, hitting his tan cheeks and blinding Keith when he smiled.

His gait was leisurely, his arms swung freely by his sides, but more than that—more than that, he looked serene _._ Relaxed, calm, _happy._ Keith could still make out the softening edges of the harsh eye bags that had once been prominent on the boy’s face, but now his blue irids sparkled as the light caught them. Now, his skin was beginning to regain the glowing complexion it had once had.

There was still something off, the slightest of tensions in the boy’s shoulders that told Keith not everything remained alright, but he didn’t dare pry. He’d realized, after their first conversation since coming back, that Lance was holding back. He wasn’t opening up like he used to, was more guarded with his expressions and hesitant to share his feelings with others. It had thrown Keith for a loop, in the beginning.

Because of all the people he had expected to change in the time he had been gone, Lance had never been one of them. It was funny, in a way—the dependency that Keith had developed for him. The belief that, despite whatever worlds he travelled to, despite however many galaxies he put between them, Lance would always be there. With his quick wit and banter and cheesy pickup lines, Lance would be there.

And he was; Keith never doubted that he was. But he was different—quieter, more reserved. There was a melancholy to him these days that had Keith straining to get past him, to peer inside and dig out the bright, blue-eyed boy he’d once befriended. There was a maturity to him that Keith wanted to dismantle, a labyrinth of walls he desired to bash his way through.

And he tried. Ever since their first conversation—when Lance had carefully returned his jacket—Keith had sought him out more and more. The boy never seemed annoyed, even smiling the few times Keith attempted to poke fun at him, but his grin always faded. Never present for more than a few seconds, his amusement wavered and consistently gave way to a hollowness that had Keith hurting.

He didn’t like seeing Lance in pain. He hated the idea that something in the universe could dim his smile, that there was a power cruel enough to take away such a bright and beautiful light. It enraged him, left him seething with an uncontrollable urge to tear down galaxies and nebulae to find this boy even an ounce of happiness.

He wasn’t naïve enough to think that Lance would emerge from this war unscathed, but he’d hoped above all hope that the boy would remain himself, that he wouldn’t lose a piece of his soul to this merciless crusade to liberate the universe.

Keith should have known better, really.

Life was never kind; reality was almost barbarous. And the kindest people were always the ones most mistreated.

He shook these thoughts from his mind as Lance came closer, plastering on a smirk for the other boy’s sake. He was _smiling_ today; Keith wasn’t about to be the one to see it fall away. Instead, he gestured to the wolf by his side, who remained lying with his stomach exposed, demanding more belly scratches.

“A child,” he found himself managing to scoff out in response to the other boy’s earlier words. “A child would listen.”

Lance let out a soft laugh, and Keith found himself thinking that it sounded a bit like windchimes, twinkling and melodic. “Don’t listen to him, Yorak,” the tan boy cooed, and at the sound of his voice, the wolf jumped up, trotting amiably to where Lance was kneeling, palm out and waiting. “Keith’s just being a meanie because he’s a grumpy, old man.”

“I’m not a grumpy, old man,” Keith grumbled as he tried to tamper down the fondness brought about by hearing Lance use the word _meanie._ It was such a _Lance_ thing to do, and it made several parts of his heart go soft. He turned to avoid the boy’s gaze as his cheeks heated, and Lance chuckled.

“You’re right,” he declared. “You’re more like a moody, little toddler who didn’t get his afternoon nap.” At that, Yorak wagged his tail, seemingly in agreeance. Lance scratched behind the wolf’s ears as he smirked. “See? Even Yorak thinks so. Don’t you, buddy?”

His voice went several pitches higher as he ruffled the animal’s fur, and Yorak let his tongue hang out as what was undeniably a smile snaked its way across his mouth. Keith felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“Of course, you’re nice to him,” he muttered to his wolf.

At his words, Lance laughed even harder, and Keith had to plead with his annoyance to remain as an overwhelming rush of affection barged in to take its place. The other boy’s eyes crinkled as he calmed down slightly, the deep blue of his pupils shining a beautiful azure as the light caught it.

“It’s not you,” Lance stated mock-seriously, “it’s me.” And then, more gently, and with a kind smile: “My mamá says I have a way with animals.”

Apparently, the sentiment extended over to stubborn, indifferent space wolfs, as well, because Lance took hold of the branch still laying in Keith’s grasp and brought it over to Yorak, who sniffed at it curiously. The boy raised his voice, waving the stick in front of him. “You want it, Yorak? Hm?”

The wolf perked up, ears straightening and eyes keenly following the moving object before him. Keith’s brow rose halfway to his hairline as his wolf’s tail began to wag. “What—” he started.

But then Lance was raising his arm, and with an excited _“Fetch!”,_ throwing the branch as far away from them as he could manage. And then Yorak was gone, disappearing and reappearing in midair to catch the rod of wood flying straight towards him. And then Keith’s mouth was dropping, jaw reaching the grass beneath as he watched the animal trot happily up to Lance to return the stick he had collected.

Something in him snapped.

“I’ve been trying to get him to do that for two fucking years!”

The burst of laughter coming from Lance in that moment was sunshine incarnate, and if it were any other day, Keith probably would have stared dazedly with wide eyes and waxed poetic about the sound being God’s gift to the universe and music to his ears. And, for a moment, he wholeheartedly considered doing so. Considered gazing into Lance’s eyes and saying something cheesy like _you’re beautiful_ or _your laugh makes me want to bottle it up in a vial and get drunk off of the sound forever._

But Yorak was smirking up at him, and Lance was still clutching the stick in his hand, and all Keith could do was start pouting. He could feel his wolf’s amusement, could almost see it rolling off of him in waves as he sat in the tall grass frowning.

Lance looked at him from in between huffs of laughter as he tried to regain control of himself. An arm was wrapped around his middle from laughing so hard, and Keith could see the beginnings of tears start to pool in the corners of the tan boy’s eyes. He was gasping, dissolving into fits of giggles and snickers every time he stopped for air. Keith distantly found himself thinking that it was the first _real_ display of amusement he’d seen from the boy in all the time that he’d been back.

Something light and bubbly fluttered in his chest at the knowledge, at the thought that Lance was making these sounds because of his doing, even if it was at his own expense.

Blushing, Keith glanced away from the boy to focus on the wolf beside him. Yorak was bouncing, tail swishing back and forth and tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth. He looked excited, more so than Keith had ever seen him. The raven-haired boy narrowed his eyes.

“You’re a traitor,” he told the animal, voice deadpan but somehow still brimming with mirth. Yorak barked, happily agreeing.

And then Lance was falling backwards, clutching at his stomach as even more laughter came rising out of him. And then Yorak was beside him, pawing at his sides and peppering his face with eager, slobbering kisses.

And he didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the two interact as an overwhelming swell of affection washed over him. He didn’t know how long he looked on for, gazing at the way Lance’s face lit up with every press of Yorak’s tongue to his cheek. The way the boy’s snorts of laughter effortlessly gave way to breathless giggles and pleads of _“Yorak, stop!”_. The way his eyes gleamed in the sunlight, the way the ocean seemed to burst forth right through them.

And he could’ve sat there staring for a day, a week—a whole fucking millennium if it were possible.

His cheeks hurt, but Keith couldn’t stop smiling.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it! 
> 
> Again, I know I'm a day behind (sorry!), and these ficlets probably aren't as great in quality as some of my longer stories, but there's only so much I can do with a day of writing. I hope you'll understand :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Come scream about klance with me on my tumblr: [here](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com)


	3. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Allura have a heartfelt conversation about feelings. (Takes place a few days after the events of the last chapter).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there are some allurance vibes in this chapter. Nothing major—just a little heart-to-heart, but I wanted to write this story while also keeping in mind Lance's canon feelings in the show. 
> 
> With that being said, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Going into this, allurance wasn't a pairing I particularly cared for, but I think it's safe to say that I've now found myself a new brotp to obsess over.
> 
> I'm a day behind with this (what else is new?), but I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> [Prompts](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com/post/176508987705/aurora)

Lance was avoiding Allura.

He didn’t mean to do it; he wasn’t actively trying to stay away from her. But sometimes he’d see her ahead of him or she’d call out to him in greeting, and he’d freeze up, stare at her white hair or pink markings or her goddamn _iridescent_ irids, and then just… _leave._ He tried to make excuses whenever he could (claimed that Kaltenecker was hungry or that Red needed some maintenance), but most of the time he just slipped away, quiet and still and hoping that she wouldn’t take notice.

He would sometimes spend the rest of his day alone, or wind up with Hunk and Pidge in the interior of the green lion, but mostly—mostly, he found himself with Keith.

There was something about him, something about the black paladin that had Lance going back to him even after the most embarrassing of encounters with Allura. Maybe it was the fact that Keith never pried, or the fact that he never made fun of him the way Hunk and Pidge did, sometimes. It was nice, being with him, and it took Lance’s mind off the unpleasant lurch his heart did sometimes when he thought about Allura.

He wasn’t naïve. He knew that this—whatever it was that he felt towards the princess—wasn’t a crush any longer, that it had surpassed petty infatuation long ago. He also knew that he would never get anything out of it, that it was futile to think Allura would ever see him in the way that he wanted her to.

And he’d come to terms with it, had even begun to push his feelings back, had tucked them away in a safe, little corner of his brain and hoped to one day look at the princess without his chest twisting inside and out.

And if he were being honest, it was working. There were days now where he could look at Allura and not have some form of heart-wrenching despair wash over him. Days now where the first thought flying through his mind wasn’t _I’m never going to be good enough for love._ Days now where he could think of his future and see the princess standing beside him as a friend, strong and sure and there to support him if he asked.

Slowly, but surely, Lance knew that he was learning to let go.

But that didn’t make it any less awkward.

He’d avoided her for so long that at this point, it had just become habitual. He didn’t know why he kept doing it; he wanted to talk to her, and he knew that she did too. He could see it in the way she tensed her shoulders, in the way that she seemed to be gathering her words whenever he caught her eye. But then he’d find himself leaving, exchanging one excuse for another and opting to go find Keith to spend the rest of the day with, instead.

Which was how he found himself now, hastily stuttering through a half-truth about sparring with the black paladin as Allura looked at him with sad, dejected eyes and drooping shoulders. He didn’t meet her gaze, _couldn’t_ look up to see the hurt and resignation that surely laid there, as he turned around to make his way to the black lion.

Almost immediately, he heard footsteps start up behind him, and he froze, body tense and waiting.

“Lance,” Allura pleaded, “please.”

He hated it. Hated himself for making her sound like that, but he didn’t know what else to do. Because he knew the conversation she wanted to have, knew the words she planned to say to him, and as much as he was learning to move on, he didn’t know if he’d be able to take it. Didn’t know if he could handle it, _because how do you simply get over the girl you’ve liked for so long? How do you sit there and hold yourself together when she’s telling you how sorry she is, how she wishes more than anything that she could return your feelings?_

But he also knew that this was something that had to be done, a conversation he _needed_ to have so that he could finally, _finally_ let go. So that he could rip off the metaphorical bandage and keep walking.

Lance sighed, squared his shoulders a little before he turned around to face Allura. He didn’t speak, didn’t really know if there was anything he could say, but he looked at her, and she seemed to understand. Her face softened, melted into something that had his heart tumbling a little, and smiled.

“There’s a little outcropping by the stream,” she whispered. “Do you want to go there?”

And he could hear the hope in her voice, the lightness and hesitation with which she asked her question, the shy concern that was right there in front of him. The heaviness in his chest began to dissipate, and he felt his mouth turn up a little. “Lead the way, Princess,” he said softly.

He followed her down a winding trail, past their encampment and through the brush that surrounded it. There were trees everywhere, tall and towering and taking on a multitude of colours. There were flowers and strange fungi as well, dotting the ground beneath their feet and swaying a little to the wind that rushed past them. It reminded him a little of the forests he’d read about in fairy tales, the ones that had talking animals and conscious plants and long, long tunnels that lead to strange, faraway lands full of magic and adventure.

She stopped them when they reached the stream, a shallow ditch in the ground that had emerald green water flowing through it. There was a bank of rocks next to it that she sat down on, and Lance took a moment to steady himself before he seated himself down next to her.

Allura glanced at him after a few moments.

“The mice told me.”

So that was how she knew. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really—the mice told Allura everything. And then, despite his best efforts, despite the fact that this conversation was really happening, Lance found himself laughing. “I knew I shouldn’t have told them anything.”

“Yes,” Allura agreed, giggling, “they’re quite the gossips.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, interspersed here and there by the rushing of the stream beneath them. Lance could hear the call of a few animals from the forest at their back, and he briefly wandered if any of them resembled the ones back home. Allura turned her body towards his; he knew the discussion that was coming.

“Lance,” she began, and he brought a hand to her shoulder to stop the words.

He gave her a smile. “It’s okay, Allura. I get it.”

She looked at him with something akin to pity and sympathy and gratefulness all at once, but her head was shaking. “No,” she continued. “I need to say this. _Please_.”

His hand retreated back into his lap, but he turned to face her and nodded, waiting. He could hear the soft intake of breath she emitted as she prepared.

“Lance,” she started, and it was as if the forest grew silent. “I love you, s _o much._ As a friend, as a brother, _as my own family._ But I—” She paused to take a breath here, and Lance knew what was coming, _knew_ where it was headed, but it didn’t lessen the sting in any way when the words finally came out.

“I cannot love you the way you want me to.”

And there it was, out in the open, laid bare and naked for him to take in. He could see the way her hands were shaking, see the way she bit at her lip to keep herself together before continuing.

“You’re one of my best friends, and I hate seeing you hurt. And I know it is cruel of me to tell you this, but it is also cruel to not say anything and lead you on. And I’m so, _so_ sorry, and—”

_No._

Lance may have been hurting, but he refused to let Allura blame herself. Refused to let her believe that she was somehow at fault for his pain, that it was wrong of her to not return his feelings. His hand reached out, grasping her arm almost desperately. She quieted as she looked at him with wide eyes.

“ _Don’t apologize_ ,” he said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I—”

“ _No_.” This time he almost demanded, and his grip on her arm tightened, as though the action itself could convey everything he was feeling. “None of this is on you. Don’t blame yourself for hurting me, because you didn’t. You never have.”

A tear rolled down Allura’s cheek, then another, and another, and then she was throwing herself around him, arms tightening behind his back as she laughed into the crook of skin where his neck met his shoulder. Her words came out garbled and messy, raw from the simultaneous crying and giggling.

“How are you so _good_?”

Lance chuckled to himself, feeling tears of his own begin to well up in the corners of his eyes. “You can thank my mamá for that,” he murmured and took in a breath to steady himself.

Allura let go of him after a moment, collecting herself and wiping her cheeks to rid them of any residual wetness. She looked at him, eyes soft and caring, as a smile began to wind its way across her lips. She reached over and touched her thumb to his skin, brushing away a lone tear that had strayed down his face.  

“Your mother would be very proud of you, Lance,” she said, her voice gentle. “Just as I am.”

He felt his cheeks redden, burning from the sincerity of her words. “You don’t have to say that, Princess,” he mumbled, and ducked his head so that she would not see his embarrassment. Allura chuckled.

“Yes, I do.” She reached for his hand then, willing him to look into her eyes. “You are a wonderful person, Lance. Inside and out. And though I may not be the one for you, I know that whoever you are meant to be with is a very, _very_ lucky being. And I know that they will take care of you, just as you will take care of them, because you deserve nothing less than happiness. _Nothing less._ ”

“And if they don’t?”

Allura scrunched her brow. “What?”

“If they don’t take care of me?” he clarified.

“Then I will kill them.”

And she sounded so serious, so forceful in her delivery of the promise, that Lance couldn’t help but burst out laughing. His sides hurt, his breath caught in his lungs as he gasped for air. There were tears in his eyes again, and somewhere along the line, they had started running down his face, staining his cheeks with their salty brininess as they fell past to the ground.

And Allura was smiling at him, and he was looking at her, at her gorgeous, white, silken hair and her brilliant, dazzling eyes. Her pale pink markings and her warm, rich, dark skin.

And Lance _knew._

Knew that he had her forever.

Perhaps not in the way that he had once hoped for, but in the way that he needed: a steady presence beside him, a hand on his shoulder to support him.

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” Lance whispered, smiling. And then, wanting to make sure that she knew, “You’re one of my best friends, too.”

Allura grinned then, radiant and ethereal, and something in Lance’s heart fluttered. At the knowledge that he got to call this phenomenal being his friend, that she loved him unconditionally, that she would always be there for him, steadfast and without question.

And that may not have been what he’d once imagined.

But goddamn was it ever enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay! I'm not the greatest when it comes to dealing with feelings and emotions so I have no idea how realistic this was. Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments! :)
> 
> As always, don't hesitate to come say hi on my tumblr: [here](https://leiaryes.tumblr.com/post/176508987705/aurora)


End file.
